


Constant

by Redcognito



Category: Vampire Diaries - L. J. Smith
Genre: Bromance, Character Turned Into Vampire, Friendship, Gen, POV First Person, Siblings, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redcognito/pseuds/Redcognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stefan goes missing, Damon turns to Matt for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One - Matt

**Author's Note:**

> Set a couple of years after Dark Reunion with Matt in college. Not slash (though you can certainly look at it with slash goggles on).

Wearily, I shifted my books to my left arm, freeing my right hand to juggle with the keys and open my dorm room door. It had been a long day of college lectures, followed by a gruelling evening at work, and now I was ready to ditch my books, fall face-first on my bed, and hopefully sleep for a week. I didn't even have the energy for a much-needed shower, but it would be a small sacrifice to make for blessed unconsciousness.

It was probably my extreme exhaustion that left me staring dumbly for several long seconds at the door as it creaked open before I even managed to get the key in the lock. Huh. My roommate, Manuel, was supposed to be away for the next week on some kind of research trip. This meant that either he was back early (god, I hoped not), I'd failed to close the door properly on my way out this morning (I'd been in a hurry, but could have sworn I'd banged it solidly behind me), or some little shit had broken in. It was to be expected in college dorms, but it didn't make it any less annoying. Not that I had anything worth stealing (I might have gotten a full scholarship to college, but I still had to work my butt off to help support my Mom and siblings back home, as well as afford food and other necessities for myself), but Manuel had a few expensive things, and if they'd been stolen he was going to have a coronary.

I listened carefully and, judging that whoever had been in there was long gone, I sighed and nudged the door open, preparing myself for the damage within. Flicking the light on I was relieved to see everything seemed to be in order at first glance. Maybe I really hadn't shut the door properly? I shrugged it off, figuring whatever the reason was, no damage had been done. But before I could even take two steps forward, I stopped short, staring wide-eyed at the figure lounging on Manuel's bed.

Damon Salvatore.

He was the last person I'd expect to see in my room, to be honest. His brother, Stefan, yes. We were best friends, and Stefan visited frequently (Manuel perved over his car while we went to the movies or went out for coffee). Damon? Not so much. So far as I could remember, he'd visited a grand total of once, and that was because he was tagging along with Stefan for reasons known only unto himself. It wouldn't have surprised me if he'd done it to get a kick out of unnerving me, and if that was the case, he'd succeeded admirably. Other than that, he kept his distance. We had an unspoken agreement that we'd mind each other's business. He didn't try and drain Bonnie's blood again, and I wouldn't indulge in macho posturing that would probably end up getting me killed. It worked, for the most part. He certainly hadn't visited again that I'd been aware of.

Yet, there he was, lounging on the bed as if he owned it, idly flicking through some of Manuel's precious comics. "Manuel gets pissed when his things get disturbed." It wasn't the most intelligent of greetings, but it was the first thing that popped into my head. I was sincerely hoping that vampires didn't leave greasy fingerprints on comics that might cause Manuel to pitch a fit.

"I'll be sure to put everything back where I found it, then." He sounded sincere, but the smirk he threw at me suggested he really didn't give a damn about Manuel's obsessive-compulsive tendencies. To be honest, the only reason I did was because I had to live with him, and it wasn't worth the headache it caused if his prized belongings were moved or put back out of order. Of course, Damon wouldn't get close to having a headache if Manuel bitched at him. He'd probably just eat him instead.

"Stefan around?" I asked, dumping my books and keys on my desk, and my jacket on my chair. I couldn't think of any good reason for Damon to visit on his own, so assumed his brother must be around somewhere.

"No. He's why I'm here. I'm worried about him."

I frowned, suddenly alarmed. I knew he'd been having some problems with Elena recently, though it hadn't seemed to be anything to be concerned over. At least, not yet. It was mostly the whole vampire issue, whether or not she should becomes one. Again. He wasn't thrilled with the idea, to be perfectly honest, and she was undecided. I'd figured they'd have a couple more years before it become a serious issue. But if Damon was concerned enough to not only outright admit he was worried about Stefan (the words blood and stone would normally apply in such a situation), but to feel compelled to visit me about it... then something was seriously wrong.

I sat down heavily on my bed, dreams of falling face-first onto it vanishing from my mind. "What's happened?"

"Elena," he said ominously, as if it explained everything. Ah. It was looking like I'd either underestimated their relationship problems by a metric tonne, or Stefan had been playing the role of martyr, and keeping the seriousness of the situation to himself. I'd been busy with college work, and he probably hadn't wanted to burden me and make me worry. Idiot. It really pissed me off when he did things like that. It was okay for me to vent at him, of course, because he was a five hundred year old vampire with time on his hands and no responsibilities to disrupt. God forbid that poor, frail, human Matt be burdened with St. Stefan's woes. I swear, when it came to Stefan being an idiot, my inner voice was starting to sound suspiciously like Damon.

I groaned, rubbing my face tiredly. "Are things really that bad?"

"They've broken up."

My first thought was a depreciating 'welcome to the Elena's exes club', and despite trying to hide it, I had a suspicion that Damon knew exactly what I was thinking. Don't get me wrong, I love Elena, I truly do. But as one of those exes, I count myself qualified enough to think such thoughts. Elena Gilbert was a much better friend then she ever was a girlfriend. At least she didn't get bored with her friends, and tended to be fiercely loyal to them. Boyfriends? Suffice to say I was the last in a long line of exes by the time she'd decided she wanted Stefan. Though I'd honestly thought the two of them had all the hallmarks of being a perfect couple. Apart from the whole human/vampire problem, anyway, and it didn't take any great leaps of logic to realise that was probably the cause of the breakup.

As if he'd read my mind (and who knew with him?) Damon went on to explain. "Elena doesn't want to become a vampire again." He grimaced, as if he couldn't understand why she objected to the idea. "Stefan, of course, agrees with her."

"They're breaking up because they're in one hundred percent agreement with each other?" My voice sounded high and incredulous, even to me. If it was going to happen, I'd assumed it would be because she wanted it, he didn't, and it was too big a wedge between them. Though in that instance, I really wouldn't have put it past Elena to go behind Stefan's back and turn those big, blue eyes on Damon to get him to turn her. He was almost as bad as Stefan when it came to being unable to deny Elena what she wanted. Otherwise, I'd figured that they'd agree not to turn her, and they'd be together until she died of old age. All romantic like. It fitted them, even if I tried not to imagine Stefan with anyone old and wrinkly, because my brain rebelled at the idea.

"Not quite. They broke up because Stefan decided that if Elena was going to stay human, then she should be able to live a human life, with a human husband, and live in a pretty house with a white picket fence, two point four children, and a fluffy dog." The sarcasm practically dripped off his tongue at the last, leaving me with no doubts about his opinion on that little scenario. I was pretty sure he'd tacked the parts about the white picket fence and fluffy dog on himself, though the human husband and children were patently a Stefan concern. "So, in his infinite wisdom, Stefan decided to leave Elena for her own good, and head back to Italy so she could get on with her life."

"Knowing Elena, she won't have taken that without a fight."

"Oh, they had a fight, alright. A very vocal one that resulted in Stefan pushing Elena too far, and her telling him that he was right, he should leave, and she didn't want to see him ever again. He didn't take it well."

"But she didn't mean that!" I exclaimed. "She was upset, she's says all kinds of dramatic shit when she's upset! Please tell me he didn't take her seriously?" For the first time, Damon looked uncomfortable. "He did?" I was beyond exasperated, and vampire or no, when I got my hands on Stefan Salvatore I was going to beat some sense into that thick skull of his.

Then Damon floored me. "I think she meant it." He held up a hand to silence me when I opened my mouth to protest. "You didn't hear the things that were said. They were things that can't easily be taken back, things that can cause irreparable damage. Given all she's been through in the past few years with only her friends for support, it's not surprising she exploded. She's probably been bottling up her own thoughts and feelings about her experiences – experiences that no other human has ever had to go through, I might add – and it was inevitable that she would have a breakdown at some point."

"Oh, crap. Okay, so we get them back together to discuss this rationally," I reasoned. "Hell, maybe find her a vampire therapist or something so she can work through her issues." Not that I had any real hope that were any vampires out there with psychology degrees. I began to wonder if things could get any worse.

"Fabulous idea, Matt. Except for the fact that Stefan is missing."

Apparently, they could indeed get worse. Serves me right for opening my big, fat, thought processes. "Missing?" I repeated dumbly. "What about Italy?"

"Elena hurt him badly. I think he was resigned to carrying on keeping in touch from a distance originally, but the things she said..." He trailed off, chewing his bottom lip nervously. The action was too human for Damon, and it disturbed me. "He's severing ties, Matt, and that scares me."

"But... no... he would have come to see me, to say goodbye if he was planning on going anywhere for long," I protested. At least, I hoped he would, because the alternative was unthinkable.

"He has," Damon said. My brows shot up. "Not to see you face to face; his scent is too faded in here for that. But outside, around the tree? He was there, late last night, and probably the night before if the strength of his scent is anything to go by."

I glanced at the window, where the tree outside was clearly visible. You'd have a good view into the room from some of those branches, though they'd be a real bitch to get into without a ladder, especially undetected. Unless you were a vampire with superior strength and agility. Like Stefan. Strangely, the idea of my friend spying on me while I slept wasn't disturbing. I'd known him to keep an eye on me in the past if he was concerned about my health and well-being. The only reason my manhood didn't take exception to this behaviour is because he was generally discreet about it, and hell, I was used to my best friend being a little bit odd. After all, he wasn't human. Normal and acceptable for Stefan were different to normal and acceptable for the rest of us.

My eyes flicked back to Damon's, and I was starting to understand the depth of his concern. "Why would he visit but not talk to me?" I asked faintly. I suspected the answer, afraid that the words that spilled from Damon's lips would be the ones that my brain was whispering insidiously at me.

"Because he didn't know how to say the final goodbye. I think... he's planning on killing himself."

I could literally feel the colour drain from my face, my blood running cold as he confirmed my worst nightmare. I stood immediately, grabbing my jacket and keys, and headed for the door. Damon remained on the bed. "Well? Aren't you coming?" I asked impatiently as I opened the door. He rose, infuriatingly slowly for a vampire, and sauntered over to me. Slowly, deliberately, he shut the door firmly, and turned to face me.

I had at least six inches in height on him, yet it felt alarmingly as if he were the one looking down on me. Long, cool fingers, captured my chin, ducking my head down to meet his gaze. It was disconcerting to stare into those dark, blank eyes. I had no idea what he was thinking at the best of times, and if he was a closed book then, right now he was a locked, forbidden tome with a missing key.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I swallowed thickly. "Stefan... shouldn't we be looking for him?"

"Hmm?" He sounded distracted, though I was certain he was more alert than usual to his surroundings and knew exactly what I'd said. "Oh, no. I know exactly where my melodramatic little brother is. I'm not here to mount a search party. It would be a temporary solution to the problem at best." His thumb brushed softly over my lips, and he hummed thoughtfully.

I took a step back, for all the good it would do me. Damon moved with me, his hand shifting to caress my neck, and alarm bells began to clang in my mind. Used to vampires as I was, it had taken me longer than most humans to realise that I was in some serious hot water. Damon was blocking escape from the door, and throwing myself out of the window wasn't what I'd call an attractive or sane option. A desperate, three-storey fall would probably result in broken bones on top of amusing Damon as he had his wicked way. I couldn't understand why he was fucking with me like this. What was he trying to achieve, exactly? Was he hoping that killing me might finally push Stefan over the edge? He'd seemed genuinely worried about Stefan, scared that his brother really would kill himself, yet here he was, his actions belying any emotion he'd expressed.

"No," Damon was saying, "I think the time has come to find a more permanent cure for Stefan's self-destructive ways." He smiled at me then, flashing his wickedly sharp fangs.

My breath hitched. "Damon, what..."

I didn't have time to finish asking before he struck, teeth sinking into my throat, one of his hands covering my mouth before I could even think to scream. I tried to struggle, but his grip was like steel, and the more I fought him, the more it hurt. White, hot burning as his teeth shredded my flesh. I could feel my muscle shifting unnaturally around his fangs, making my stomach lurch nauseously at the sensation.

 _Relax_ , Damon's voiced echoed in my mind, _It would be so much easier for you if you didn't fight_.

As much as it shamed me, I gave in, letting my body go limp in his arms. I recognised that there was no way to escape him, and if I was going to die, I'd rather not go out in such hideous pain. Damon grunted approvingly against my neck even as he drank. Obviously my relaxing made things easier for him, too. The raw pain began to fade to an aching throb. Hardly comfortable, but far from the agony it had been. I comforted myself with the knowledge that if Damon thought this was going to drive Stefan to suicide, then he had another thing coming. Stefan be furious, and would kill him for this... oh. My anger and hatred dimmed a little as I realised that was probably Damon's intention, to drive Stefan over the other edge, to live for vengeance over my death. I was pissed as hell that Damon was using me to manipulate his brother, and I was even more furious that I was the one who was going to die as a result of this. But a part of my emotional turmoil was eased as I realised that at least Stefan would live.

I was surprised to discover Damon was slowing his drinking as he manoeuvred over to my bed and lay me down in a surprisingly gentle manner. Then, he stopped drinking. I wasn't sure exactly how much blood he'd taken, but I was pretty sure he hadn't drained me dry. Huh. Maybe I'd underestimated him. Maybe he was going to leave me alive after all, settle for pissing Stefan off and out of his melancholy rather than incurring his wrath. Of course, if he left me alive, then he was seriously underestimating me, because I'd be on his ass with a wooden stake. Just as soon as I was able to move again.

I opened my mouth to try and speak, to ask Damon what the hell was going on, or maybe just to hurl insults at him. Instead, my breath whistled wordlessly through my teeth, and I decided it really wasn't worth the effort of finding the energy for such a wasted exercise. Calling Damon an asshole would probably just amuse him more than anything else, and it wasn't like he didn't know he was one already. Instead, I closed my eyes, settling back to wait and hope that Stefan dropped by in a timely fashion to get me to the ER before I bled out.

It seemed so simple, too simple. I really should have known that wasn't all that Damon had in mind. He settled behind me, cradling me close like a child. Everything was quiet and still for a moment, and then my nostrils flared at the metallic tang that was suddenly wafted in front of my face. My eyes snapped open to find Damon's very bloody wrist under my nose. My mind blanked for a moment, before suddenly kicking in with a panicked burbling as I realise exactly what it was Damon had in store for me. I had an overwhelming desire to scream 'Oh no, you fucking don't, you bastard!' in his face. Instead, all I could manage was an alarmed gurgle of protest.

Stefan wasn't going to kill him. Stefan was going to fucking eviscerate him. And I was going to feed his balls to Yangtze II.

Despite my pitiful protest, Damon was insistent, pressing his wrist to my mouth. "Drink," he urged as his blood spilled onto my lips. "Don't make me force you more than I've had to."

I wanted to refuse, to hold my breath and deny Damon his satisfaction. But what my mind wanted and what my dying body craved were two entirely different things. It was as if my body knew that Damon's blood was some kind of life-giving (ha!) elixir, and it reacted accordingly, my lips latching onto the vampire's wrist with an alarming ferocity, my throat reflexively swallowing the hot, red liquid that poured into my mouth. _No, no, nononono_ , I couldn't believe this was happening, my mind refusing to accept what my treacherous body was doing. Yet, despite my horror, I couldn't stop drinking Damon's blood, couldn't get enough of it into me. Sweet, metallic and instantly addictive, it coated my throat, slipping into my body as my own blood seeped out of the wound in my neck.

After an eternity (but oh, far too soon!), Damon removed his wrist. I keened quietly at the loss, and he stroked my hair gently, soothing, as the world began to fade into a pleasant haze. "I'm sorry, Matthew, I really am," he said softly. "You see, this was the only thing I could think of to ensure that Stefan didn't follow through on some fool idea to kill himself. He's too important to me, I can't lose him. Not now.

"He is my constant, the one thing outside of myself I have to cling to. Throughout the centuries, he's always been there. I've always watched him, whether he knew it or not. As much as I've hated him, in my own way, I've always loved him. I'm not sure I can even tell the difference between the two any more. But the one thing I know for certain is that if Stefan dies, a large part of me dies with him, and I cannot, _will not_ , let that happen.

"He'll probably despise me for doing this to you, but it's all I have to give him. And it's not like I'm not used to the hate already. He certainly wouldn't consider doing this himself, even though it's exactly what he needs. He refuses to do it to Elena again, and it isn't as if she doesn't understand exactly what she'd be letting herself in for. He'd never entertain the idea of turning you.

"You're the only reason he hasn't taken a walk into the sun, you know? The last thing in this world he holds sacred. You're the one person who has managed to get under his skin on your own merits since he was human. Hmm. Yes. Even Elena doesn't really count in that respect. As much as he loves her, their meeting was manipulated by Katherine, a deception designed to ensnare us both in her web.

"But you? You, Matthew Honeycutt, never featured in her plans. You were a gift to him in spite of Katherine's machinations. You offered friendship that he never expected, never dared hope for. You've been there for him, been to hell and back with him, and your faith never wavered. It doesn't matter to you that he's a vampire. You refuse to pander to his belief that he's a monster. You ground him, anchor him to his precious humanity. You're more a brother to him than I could ever be."

He was silent for a few moments, as if contemplating what he was going to say next. "Between us, we could probably talk him down, you and I, convince him to live. But I know it would be a short reprieve, because in a few short years you'll die. Rot away, turn to dust, and then Stefan will be alone again. His pain now is enough to make him consider ending his life. Without you? I have no doubt that he'll take off his ring and walk into the sun, leaving me behind no matter what wild plan I could come up with to prevent it.

"This is why I've done the unforgivable to you." His lips brushed the top of my head, planting a soft kiss there. I felt myself floating away, my blood loss too great for me to hang on. Distantly, he continued. "You will be his constant, Matt. You will give him reason to live, to love, and while you both may hate me for what I've done, it's a small price to pay for Stefan's continued survival."

My heart stuttered one final time, one last breath of air gasped from my lungs.

And then, I died.


	2. Two - Stefan

I stood at edge of the woods to the north of the university campus. It was nearing dawn, and the sky to the east was starting to lighten. I'd hoped that I'd be able to spend one last evening with Matt, to hear him laugh, to see him smile at me again, but I hadn't been able to go through with it. Probably because I knew he might well be able to talk me out of my plan to bathe one final time in sunlight. Instead I'd settled for watching him through his dorm room window as he slept, imprinting his peaceful image in my mind to take with me. At least it would be a happy image. Thinking of Elena just hurt too damn much.

She blamed me, because she couldn't go back to Fell's Church, to her family. That life was lost to her as surely as if she were still dead. She watched Margaret grow from a distance, hidden in the shadows, behind dark glasses so no one would recognise her. It physically hurt her not to be able to reach out, to embrace her sister and hold her for even a brief second. She'd seen Judith at her grave over the years, watched her suffer the stages of grief, from her weeping to her sad resignation and eventual acceptance. These days she spoke to Elena when she visited the grave (the fact that it wasn't even empty was another stress on Elena's grip on sanity), telling her about her family, how Margaret was doing in school, how happy she was to be married to Robert, and how she wished Elena could be there to share the joy with her. Elena longed to reach out, to respond to the questions that Judith posed, to _connect_ with her life once more. But it could never be, and she had to leave before the desire grew to strong to resist.

As long as I remained with Elena, she would continue to live in a half-life. Bad enough that she was unable to return to her old life, to prevent her from having any life at all was cruel. All I did was hold her back, a constant reminder of what she no longer had. It would only grow worse as she grew older, as her body aged while mine stayed as perfect as it had for the past five centuries. If she didn't hate me now, then her resentment would have only built up, and in the next decade, maybe two, her life would come crumbling down around her.

No, if Elena couldn't have her old life, then she needed to be able to move on, forge new connections in the world, find love, happiness, have children, grandchildren. Elena deserved to live, and how could she do that with one who had been dead for as long as I had?

I had resolved to leave, to stay out of her way while she moved on. Home to Italy had seemed the best idea, back where things were familiar, despite the inevitable changes wrought by time's passing. To be honest, I knew I didn't have the strength to stay away for long, knew that I'd probably be back to watch her from a distance, just as she spied on her old life now. I'd want to make sure she was safe and happy. I could live with that, though. Knowing that she loved me, and that she was happy, it would have been enough.

But then her heated words, brutally honest for all her anger, cut me to the quick. Love was already turning into resentment, and she didn't want me in her life. Oh, she probably regretted saying it, didn't want me gone really. But the seed had been sown, the glimpse of an ugly future if we were to stay on our current path seared into my mind.

Idly twisting the lapis ring on my finger, I consoled myself with the fact that the sun was rising. It would all be over soon.

I wasn't really surprised when Damon was suddenly by my side. "Come to gloat?" I asked spitefully, "Going to dance on my ashes when I'm gone?"

"No, I'm here to stop you," he responded calmly.

I barked out a laugh. "Short of chaining me in a cave, there's nothing you can do to stop me. Even if you prevented me killing myself today, there are more sunrises to come. If not today, I'd try tomorrow, and the next day. Soon enough, I would succeed, because even you would lose your patience with me eventually."

"I've already lost my patience with you," he snapped. "Doing this is selfish, damn you, and hardly productive. Do you have any idea what this would do to me? Elena? To Matt?"

"Elena has made her feelings about me clear. I couldn't go back to her now, not after what she's said, what I know. I've forgiven her for her words, Damon, but it's proof that I'm bad for her, that she needs to move on somehow, as best she can, and put the supernatural behind her. She doesn't need me, all I do is cause her pain. Better she be able to live her life... but I can't live without her, Damon. What is the point in continuing to exist when I have nothing?"

"You're an idiot, Stefan." His lip curled up in contempt. "Elena isn't the be-all and end-all of everything. The universe doesn't revolve around Elena Gilbert, as much as it may seem to for those of us trapped in her orbit. You don't seem to understand how important you are to the people in your life... and no, they damn well wouldn't be better off without you, before you get it in your thick skull to say it."

I snorted. "They'd get over me, move on, live normal lives. None of them need me, not now, and I only ever brought them trouble and heartbreak." It was true. None of them would have ever been in the whole stupid mess with Katherine and Klaus if it weren't for me. If I'd stayed away, if I'd ignored Elena like I'd meant to... if, if, if. I'd failed, and people were hurt and killed because of that. "Besides, I'm tired Damon. I was ready to give up years ago. I gave it a last shot at fitting in, to try and find some kind of peace in the world, and it failed spectacularly." The sun was shining over the horizon now, and I could feel the first rays tickling my skin. It was time. "I need this, Damon. I need the pain to stop, so please, _just let me go!_ " I implored desperately.

I made to move away and yank my ring off, to hurl it as far away from me as possible, but Damon's hands shot out, grasping my wrist and wrapping around my fingers, over my ring. "Oh, no you don't," he growled.

I let out an anguished cry, "Let me go!"

"No!"

"Why, Damon? Why are you insisting on prolonging my agony? Do you even have a single good reason beyond tormenting me?" I worked to release myself from his grip, but his next words were enough to give me pause for a moment.

"You can't leave Matt, not when he needs you the more than he ever did before."

That had to be one of the flimsiest excuses that had ever graced Damon's lips. "Matt is in college, doing just fine. The worst he's got on his plate right now is working too many hours and his neurotic roommate."

"Wrong," Damon bit off viciously. "At some point today he's going to wake up from a very long, deep sleep confused as hell and with a strong desire for blood. In fact, his roommate could well end up being his first meal."

I stared at him in horror. No, please, _no_. "You... turned him?" My voice was barely a whisper. I couldn't believe that Damon would do something as unbelievably evil as this. Not to Matt, of all people.

"Last night."

" _How could you_?" I screamed, pulling out of his grip. "What possessed you, Damon? What is this... _need_ you have to destroy anything that I love and hold dear? Do you hate me that much?"

Overcome with anger, I lunged at him with a wordless roar, my fist swiping out in a punch that – amazingly – connected solidly with his chin. His head snapped back, but that was as far as I got before he overwhelmed me with his superior speed and strength, manhandling me into a position from which he could better control me.

He had me pinned against a tree, and I didn't have enough strength to fight him and release myself. I hadn't even bothered feeding on animal blood for the past few days; Damon's steady diet of human blood ensured I was no match for him right now. I snarled in his face, frustrated that he only stared passively back. No spark of triumph, no smirking at my pitiful attempts. His eyes were devoid of any cruel emotion.

"I don't hate you, Stefan. I don't hate Matt. I'm sorry that it came to this, but I will do anything – _anything!_ – to keep you alive. I _need_ you, but I'm not enough to keep you here. Matt is. He's the one person left who holds any kind of emotional sway over you. I know you, and you would never leave him if he needed you."

"But _turning_ him?"

"It was the only way! Anything less would only be temporary! You'd stay long enough to see him well, but you'd still be determined to end your life as soon as it was possible. By turning him, you live as long as he lives!"

He was right. _Damn_ him, but every word was true. I wouldn't leave Matt to deal with this alone, especially not when I was the cause. I wanted to die to prevent my friends suffering because of my actions, and yet Matt was now paying the price for my desire. I was chained to life for as long as Matt lived, and my love for my friend meant that I would ensure that was for as long as he needed. Damon had manipulated me in a most expert and unspeakably thorough manner, and I was livid that he'd managed to exert that kind of control over me. But that anger paled in comparison to the white-hot fury I felt when I thought about what he'd done to Matt. Even turning Elena again against my wishes would be more acceptable than damning Matt in this way. Damon had crossed the line by bringing Matt into this. Dear god, I hadn't felt this depth of violent emotion since the day Elena had first died at Wickery Bridge, and I'd attacked my classmates in order to take Damon out, or die trying. Right now I wanted to rip his throat out with my bare hands and feed his entrails to a pack of rabid dogs. Death was too good for him.

"I hate you," I spat at him.

His eyes flashed with emotion, then. I'd have said sadness or remorse if I didn't know better. "I know," he said simply, his voice betraying no surprise, only weary resignation.

"I can't ever trust you again." That knowledge hurt more than I thought possible. We'd had so little time to try and build a relationship, and it was shattering to pieces around us.

"I don't expect you to," Damon said softly, and I was shocked to realise that his voice was filled with genuine sadness. His lips brushed my forehead in a wistful kiss, then he pulled away quickly, vanishing faster than even my eyes could track. His final words carried on the breeze. "I just need you to live."

Shocked, I sank down against the tree, my fingers brushing the cool spot where his lips had touched my skin. I hadn't had any idea that I'd meant that much to him. I was appalled by what he'd done, I couldn't understand why he felt such a desperate need for me to live. That last display of emotion left me with no doubt that it wasn't a desire to cause me pain. For some unfathomable reason, my brother didn't want to lose me, and he was willing to risk our precarious relationship to make sure that he didn't.

But Matt... oh, god, Matt. I shook myself out of my stupor and ran for Matt's dorm. There was no way in hell I was going to let him wake up alone, to deal with this on his own like Damon and I had been forced to.

He was on his bed when I got to his room mere minutes later, curled on his side, blanket carefully over him. Damon had made the effort to clean the blood from his mouth and – judging from the twin gashes still visible – his neck.

He was also, quite clearly, dead. A part of me hoped that Damon had been lying, that he'd not shared his blood with Matt, that this was some final cruel, goodbye joke. At least then I could take a final walk in the sun without feeling guilty about leaving Matt behind. But there was a bigger part of me that hoped Damon had been telling the truth, and that Matt would wake up in a few hours, confused, but alive. He was too young to die, still had too much to do, so many things left to experience and explore. I'd never have wished this on him, but now it was done I at least hoped he'd have a chance to make the best of the situation and carry on with his life.

And yes, I admit it, I just didn't want my best friend to die.

Later, when Matt was safe, and my own fury and hate had been dampened, I would allow myself to think that – despite the whole affair being unethical and immoral on so many levels – Damon had been almost kind in the way he'd done it. If he'd bore me any malice, any desire to see me truly suffer, he could have attacked Matt and forced _me_ to turn him. I would never have done it if there was a choice in the matter, but if a situation arose where Matt's life was in danger, where turning him would be the only way to save him... I think I would have done it. I'd have spent eternity feeling wretched and guilty about it, but Matt's life was too important to me. Damon had taken that burden from me. I still felt guilty about it all (I suspect Damon was counting on that in order to make sure I stood by Matt, not matter what), but at least I wasn't the only one to blame for this. My guilt was lessened by the sharing.

For now, I simply seethed at Damon's actions in the back of my mind while desperately trying to think about where exactly Matt and I went from here. I'd have to deal with the problem of telling Matt that he was no longer human, then there was the fact that Matt would have to decide what to do with his life now he had the potential to live forever. It was overwhelming enough for me to think about; I didn't like to imagine what Matt was going to make of it all.

I decided it was better to concentrate on the immediate problems, the things that would need to be organised before Matt even woke up. Manuel was the first concern, as the last thing we needed was him to walk in on Matt being dead, or – worse still – Matt overcome with thirst. For what seemed like the first time that day, it was as if Fate had decided to give me a break; the obsessively noted and colour-coded planner on his wall told me that he was away for the entire week. It was a weight off my mind, though I was going to put serious thought into making Matt move out of the dorms before his roommate returned. Manuel could try the patience of a saint, and a newly-turned vampire might not be able to stop themselves biting him just to shut him up. For Manuel's safety, as well as Matt's sanity, moving out would be for the best. I could get an apartment close enough to campus, Matt could have his own room, rent-free. His pride be damned, I'd find a way to twist his arm.

The next problem was easy enough to solve. Checking my friend's timetable, I set about contacting people to let them know that Matt wouldn't be around for a few days due to a bout of stomach flu. It seemed like a safe option; it was a university campus, and there was always some kind of stomach complaint doing the rounds. Given Matt's impeccable attendance and the fact that he was so well liked, neither his professors or his employers were put out when they heard the news. I was asked to pass on sympathies and get well wishes, and to tell him that notes for missed lectures could be picked up when he was feeling better.

It seemed somehow silly to be phoning him in sick to a job when he'd died, and his future was full of all kinds of impossibilities. In a hundred years he could be running free under starlight; serving coffee and cake seemed mundane and a little unreal in comparison. But I knew his job was important to him, that he relied on it to help support his family, and for that reason he'd want to keep it. He was too proud to accept my help on that count, even though I have more money than I know what to do with and would have gladly given it to him.

The final concern was how to deal with the thirst when Matt eventually woke up. The easiest thing to do would be to find a source of blood and have it on hand. Of course, I didn't know how long that would take, and the last thing I wanted was Matt waking up while I was gone; memories of Elena's less-than-spectacular turning were burned into my mind. I wasn't sure what state of mind he'd be in. I decided that I needed to have faith that my brother had done the job properly, that he'd given Matt enough blood to get through the change and come out at the other end in a rational state of mind. Once Matt was awake and aware, I could take him out hunting, or at the very least have him sit tight while I sourced him some blood. Not an optimal solution, but it would have to do.

With everything arranged that needed to be, and my course of action decided, I settled into the chair at his desk and watched him for signs of consciousness. Despite what people say about the dead looking like they were sleeping, Matt most certainly didn't. The lack of movement was unnerving. He'd been a deep sleeper for as long as I'd known him, but even so he was never still as he slumbered, stirring frequently, flinging his long limbs out in all directions. I'd often wondered if he'd ever be able to share a bed with a partner without accidentally kicking them out in the middle of the night.

My gaze rested on his face. His eyes were too still; I was used to them moving restlessly, lashes fluttering as he dreamed. Now they simply rested against his cheeks. I noticed his neck wound had healed now, his skin pale and smooth, no scar to prove that Damon had even been there.

Despite knowing what was happening, I kept expecting him to fling an arm out, for his lips to murmur sleepy nonsense that only my ears were sensitive enough to pick up. My chest tightened in pain, and I had to look away. Seeing Matt so dead and still like this hurt too much. In an effort to distract myself, my fingers fiddled restlessly with the items on Matt's desk. A photograph of Elena, Bonnie and Meredith (I placed that one face down, not wanting to be reminded of Elena quite yet), another of his mother and siblings, the chewed-up mess that was his lucky pen (it had gotten him through those last, hellish exams in high school). Small items that were of little consequence, yet important to Matt, to who he was. I glumly wondered how badly this would change him, and if he'd blame me for the things he'd lost, just like Elena did. I didn't dare hope that things would turn out fine, better to be prepared for the worst.

A thud of a heartbeat startled me out of my thoughts. Slowly, Matt's body began to wake up from its death-sleep. His heart settled into a steady rhythm, slower than it had been when he was human, but regular, healthy and _reassuring_ nonetheless. He began to breathe, shallowly at first, breaths becoming deeper as the minutes ticked by. Weeks from now his breathing rate would gradually slow down to only a few breaths each minute, but for now his body remembered what it needed from when he was human.

I knelt by the bed and waited patiently as he stirred towards consciousness.


	3. Three - Matt

"Wake up, Matt." The voice was loud in my ears, and very insistent.

"Go 'way, Mom," I mumbled, burying my face further in my pillow. I wrinkled my nose as it encountered something dry and crusty, but couldn't be bothered to rouse myself to investigate.

"I'm not your mom," the voice pointed out patiently, "And Damon isn't heading for any Mother of the Year awards, either." There was a level of acidity in the voice that made my brain wake up enough for me to crack my eyes open. Stefan's level, green gaze was inches away, filling my vision. Satisfied I was awake, Stefan pulled back, and I immediately shut my eyes in pain.

"God, too bright! Turn the sun off!" I yelped. My head throbbed, and I whimpered. I hadn't had a hangover this bad in a couple of years, and I vaguely wondered what the hell I'd been drinking the night before to cause this level of pain.

"It's six in the evening, Matt, the sun is going down. On the other side of the building." Stefan sighed, and perched himself on the edge of my bed. "What do you remember, Matt?"

"Not much," I said, my brow furrowing as I tried to remember anything at all. I sat up – carefully – and rubbed at my eyes. Squinting was a lot less painful than fully opening my eyes, I discovered. I caught sight of my pillow, and discovered what the crusty stuff was. Blood. "Did I have a nosebleed?" I asked, confused.

"No, Matt," Stefan responded sadly. "I need you to tell me the last thing you remember. Please, it's important." I looked sharply at him, he sounded almost... desperate. I closed my eyes and cast my mind back to my last memory.

"I remember getting home from work," I said after a minute. "I got back, thought I'd left my door open. Oh! Damon was here." It started coming back now, little by little. "That's right, he was worried about you because you'd broken up with Elena and you'd gone missing..." I broke into a smile, "Obviously you've turned up again."

Stefan didn't smile back. Instead he stared at me with a peculiar expression on his face. "And?" he prompted me.

I rubbed my eyes again, finding it somehow difficult to concentrate. It was there, just out of reach, and if Stefan's sombre behaviour was anything to go by, it was something significant. "I don't know, this hangover is making it hard for me to think," I whined. It was irritating me, trying to work out how I'd gone from discussing Stefan with Damon, to a hangover. I was pretty sure I hadn't gone to a bar or anything with Damon (the idea of him as a drinking buddy was hilarious), so where did alcohol come into it?

"It's not a hangover," Stefan informed me.

"Sure as hell feels like one," I groused.

"You're... thirsty," he said hesitantly, but didn't elaborate. I scowled, but before I could point out that dehydration was a common symptom of hangovers, Stefan spoke again. "Please, Matt, I need you to remember."

I bit back a frustrated growl and picked absently at the blood flakes on my pillow. I could still smell the coppery tang faintly... I frowned as memory stirred. My blood... I didn't have a nosebleed... my eyes widened in horror as everything flooded back. I remembered Damon's teeth on my throat, the blinding pain, my blood being sucked from me, the elder Salvatore stealing the life from my veins.

"Damon!" My hand flew to my throat, searching for the gash that had to be there, evidence of the trauma. There was none, just cool, smooth skin beneath my fingers. Then I remembered Damon's blood in my mouth, swallowing it, unable to resist. His words of explanation that seemed so sorry and sad, knowing that what he was doing was wrong while believing he had no other choice.

I remembered dying.

"Ohgod, ohgod, ohgodohgod." I began rocking back and forth. Dear god, I'd _died_ , which meant... I couldn't bring myself to say the word. I was like Stefan, now. I was dead, undead, and I'd need to drink blood to live, and... oh god, it was too much to take in. This wasn't supposed to happen to me, I wasn't anything remarkable or special like Elena, for crying out loud! I was supposed to be the loyal, dependable, and very _human_ sidekick. My distressed whimpering increased in volume, and Stefan's arms were suddenly wrapping around me as he pulled me against his solid chest. He rocked me soothingly, whispering nonsense in an attempt to comfort me as I clawed desperately at his shirt.

I concentrated on the steady beating of his heart, reassured at that small sign of life, soothed by its repetitive rhythm. It was something I'd never noticed in Stefan before – I suppose being human, the only heartbeat you ever notice is your own. I'd just assumed that because he was a vampire his heart wouldn't beat; it wasn't something I'd ever thought to actually ask about. Now, I clung to it like a lifeline.

I lost track of time as Stefan held me, my brain trying to wrap itself around the unthinkable, to come to terms with what had happened. I wasn't human, could never be again. Outside of permanently dying, there was no cure, I was absolutely certain of that. If there had been, Stefan would have taken it already, would have given it to Elena. So I was stuck, I had to spend the rest of my life... this way. However long that may be.

The concept of living for five hundred years like Stefan had was frightening, and my mind couldn't comprehend the enormity of it. I'd outlive my friends, my family. I'd get to see my siblings' children's children grow old and die, and I didn't feel entirely comfortable with that knowledge; it just seemed wrong, unnatural. Thinking about my family made me wonder about what the hell I was supposed to tell them. Should I tell them? Should I cut my ties, let them carry on without burdening them with my... condition? Could I even bring myself to do that? It was a small comfort to know I had some time to decide. Stefan and Damon aside, it wasn't like anyone knew I'd died. I didn't have to find a new identity or anything like Elena had, I could carry on as normal for a few more years before people noticed I wasn't aging.

Of course, my mother was bound to notice something the first time I set foot back home (and how the hell was I going to get myself invited in without looking really suspicious?). She was observant like that, always knew when something was wrong with one of us. It was guaranteed she'd spot I was paler and bombard me with questions until I admitted what was wrong with me. I wondered what she'd make of it if I told her I was a...

I still couldn't say it. It was getting stupid, skirting around the word, avoiding saying it as if by doing so it didn't make any of it real. I couldn't keep denying it, I had to force myself to accept it and just say the damn word. I gritted my teeth, working up the courage to say it.

"I'm a... a... vampire," I gasped finally. My ears could barely make sense of it, but at least I'd been able to actually say it out loud. Maybe it would be easier now I'd said it once. "I'm a vampire," I repeated. There, not so bad.

"I'm sorry," Stefan whispered into my hair, "I'm so sorry." I wasn't sure if he was offering sympathy or blaming himself, but at that moment I didn't have the energy to battle with him if he was feeling guilty. It would have to wait until later, when I could cope better and had enough presence of mind to be able to hit him upside the head.

Despite feeling safe and comfortable, I was coming to my senses enough to feel a little foolish for being cradled like this, a grown man being held like a child. I reluctantly pulled away from Stefan's comforting embrace, and repositioned myself so I was seated with my back against the wall. A glance at my (too bright) alarm clock told me that I'd been quietly panicking in Stefan's arms for well over an hour.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, my voice feeling raw in my throat. It had taken a good few days for Elena's transformation to finish, though I was aware that hers wasn't a textbook case.

"Since last night. I called you in sick at work."

Sick. Ha! That was the understatement of the century. If you counted being a creature ravenous for blood as being under the weather, then sure, being sick covered it. Though I supposed I should count myself lucky I wasn't going mad with bloodlust, like Elena had when she'd been turned.

Remembering Elena's first few hours, I had to ask, "Why am I rational when Elena was completely out of her head?"

"She didn't have enough of our blood to complete the change. Damon... well, he had the sense and skill to do the job properly with you. You'll need to feed soon, but you're in your right mind, still sane."

"Still _sane_?" a small, hysterical laugh escaped my lips. "Stefan, the last thing I feel right now is sane. My whole damn world has been ripped out from under me. I'm a freaking _vampire_!" His words repeated in my head, and I grimaced. "I'm a vampire, and I'm going to have to feed soon, drink _blood_..." What made the whole thing worse was that my mind wanted to feel nauseous, to rebel against such a disgusting concept. Instead, my damn body betrayed me, just as it had when I drank Damon's blood. I could feel my fangs sharpening at the thought of blood, my stomach tightening in anticipation of being filled with it. I began to panic. "Stefan, I don't think I can do this."

"You can. You have to." He made it sound so damn simple. Perhaps it was, because it was that, go completely insane from bloodlust and kill someone, or take a walk into the sun. "I'll be there to walk you through it, you don't have to deal with any of this on your own."

I needed to remember that. I wasn't alone, Stefan was here to help me get through it. He wouldn't abandon me. I took several deep, calming breaths (maybe I didn't need to do that any more, but it benefited me psychologically), and decided that I needed to look at this logically, assess the changes in my body to better understand them and, hopefully, control them. My skin was definitely paler. Not that my complexion was much darker before; I'd had fair skin to match my blonde hair and blue eyes. But my flesh still seemed alien to me. The small scars from rough play during my childhood had vanished, leaving flawless skin in their place. I was mildly put out by that. I'd spent years cultivating those scars, and they'd been wiped clean away.

I'd already worked out that my sight was sharper. It was night, Stefan hadn't bothered turning any of the lights on, and yet I found I could see perfectly. Colours were more muted in the dark, but I could still distinguish them, and everything was so sharp. I'd had excellent eyesight as a human, but now it was phenomenal.

I studied my right hand, staring at the detail of my veins, then flexing my fingers, marvelling as they moved with liquid grace. My gestures seemed faster, more precise, and if my hand coordination was this improved, I couldn't imagine how much better the rest of my physical reflexes would be. Now that I was concentrating on my senses, a musky, wild scent tickled my nose. I realised that it was Stefan's personal scent, and on top of that I realised I could smell the damp woodland clinging to him.

My hearing was off the charts. I'd thought my room was pretty quiet, and my dorm was located in a quieter part of the campus. But now I could hear all kinds of things clearly; the wildlife outside, especially a fox rummaging in a garbage can; traffic roaring far in the distance; students laughing several buildings away as they headed out to enjoy the night. I could also hear murmurs in the dorms, in the rooms around me. If I concentrated hard enough, I could clearly hear conversations from the common room, and... I quickly stopped concentrating. I never wanted to hear the sound of Billy Johnson doing _that_ ever again.

Okay, so far, so good. I'd been able to deal with those things pretty well without breaking down in hysterics. That left the thing I'd been avoiding, the one thing that I knew made all of this very real, marked me as Not Human. Cautiously, I poked experimentally at my teeth with my tongue. It was disconcerting yet oddly fascinating the way my canines responded to my probing, lengthening and sharpening, even though I was very carefully not thinking about blood. After a moment I realised Stefan was giving me a peculiar look. "What?" I asked, a little defensively.

His lip twitched a little, as if he was trying to hide a smile. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look doing that?"

I realised that I probably did look funny, given the expressions I must have been pulling with my mouth while I explored. I felt suddenly self-conscious at the thought that Stefan knew I was, well, playing with my teeth. With fangs that were just like his that I couldn't believe I had, and frankly shouldn't have had in the first place. I realised that I still thought of myself as human, different to Stefan, and it was probably going to take a while for my mindset to change enough to remember that we were, essentially, the same.

Only I, for one, was not going to fall into the insidious trap of thinking that I was a monster. I'd kick it out of Stefan too, if I could.

I cast my eyes around for another distraction. I noticed there was a ring on my finger, heavy and silver, set with a deep, blue stone. I'd obviously been too preoccupied to notice it at first, but now I frowned at it as I turned it around on my finger. I knew what it was. I'd been around Stefan, Damon and even Elena for far too long not to be aware of the significance. The stone was Lapis Lazuli, a talisman that allowed vampires to walk unharmed in the sun, would allow _me_ to walk in the sun. It looked vaguely familiar, and I shot a questioning glance at Stefan.

"Damon's." He shrugged, seemingly as perplexed by it as I was. I didn't expect him to have left me without some form of lapis to protect me; he'd planned this all far too carefully to risk that. But his own ring? He'd worn it for five hundred years, and now he'd given it to me. I didn't understand why, such sentimentality was something I'd never associated with Damon. But then if this whole thing proved anything, it was that no one actually knew Damon. A question wrapped up in a fucking enigma, and about as unpredictable as the wind.

It infuriated me. On the one hand, I despised him for forcing vampirism on me. I didn't want it, would never have asked for it, but he'd done it anyway. On the other hand, he'd taken such care over the whole damn thing, been so gentle after the initial bite, taken care to leave me safe. And, looking into Stefan's green eyes, I couldn't help but feel grateful that my best friend was here with me now, and not a pile of ash in some godforsaken alley somewhere.

"Is he around? Or did he bite and run?" I had to ask.

Stefan frowned darkly. "He's around," he said at last. "I can feel him on the periphery of things. Close enough to keep watch on us, too far away for me to be able to catch him and wring his damn neck."

Huh. The knowledge eased my fears a little. Once upon a time I'd have figured him for turning someone, and then vanishing completely. Evidently Damon Salvatore was better than that. Even knowing that the pair of us wanted to do unspeakably violent things to him, he was still sticking around to make sure we were okay. It seemed he'd decided that Stefan needed to be the one to care for me and take me under his wing while I grew accustomed to what I'd become. Annoyingly, Damon was right. I'd feel more comfortable with Stefan, and Stefan would benefit from having someone who needed him. I resolved to make sure I was around when Damon was eventually wrong, just so I could enjoy the self-satisfied smirk being wiped off his face.

I frowned. My throat was starting to feel parched, and swallowing wasn't helping. Stefan looked at me carefully. "Are you alright?"

"Thirsty," I replied distractedly. There was a warm, almost itching sensation spreading through my veins, and I stared at my wrist as I rubbed it in a vain attempt to soothe the heat. It didn't seem to do any good.

"Matt? Matt!" I realised I'd zoned out and Stefan had been trying to get my attention. I dragged my eyes from the veins in my wrist to meet Stefan's concerned gaze. "You need to feed. The thirst, the burning in your veins... they're signs that you need blood."

I swallowed heavily, and this time it wasn't a reflex to ease my dry throat. A pit opened in my stomach, and I looked at Stefan fearfully. "Now?"

"We can't leave it for much longer. I can take you out to hunt something, teach you what you need to know. Or you can sit tight here tonight while I go and find you some fresh blood if hunting is too much for you."

The idea of _hunting_ caused a fresh panic to rise in my chest, but the burning was becoming more incessant, forcing me to push down my emotions and think the situation through. Waiting here was tempting, but I didn't know how long it would take Stefan to find me some blood and get back here, and I was pretty sure I couldn't hold on for too long. On top of that, I didn't want to be left alone. By myself, I was scared I'd go mad and do something stupid.

"We can go... hunting," I said, my voice cracking. I didn't sound especially confident, and Stefan certainly didn't seem convinced. I coughed to clear my throat, and tried again. "Hunting. I mean, I have to do this some time, right? I might as well get it over with. I don't think I'm safe on my own, anyway, and hey, it's not people, right?"

"Right, not people. Animals. We'll find something in the woods." He smiled at me reassuringly, proudly. It was a little strange seeing Stefan look that way over my decision, but it still pleased me.

We didn't waste time once the decision had been made, no point putting it off, especially as I could feel the burning in my veins growing hotter by the minute. Grabbing jackets and keys, we were out of the dorms in less then a minute, heading towards the woods. I was jittery with nerves and a need to expend the energy that was building up inside me. Out of sight of public places, Stefan flashed me a mischievous and knowing grin before throwing me a challenge, "Race you!"

He was off, quick as a flash, but with my new, heightened senses I could track him well enough as he flew into the trees. I set off after him, laughing wildly, determined to test my new speed and agility to the full.

I didn't choose this, I didn't want it, but with Stefan to help me? I might just survive it.

Fin.


End file.
